divide by zero
by envysparkler
Summary: In a dying world, the helpless rise up to defeat that which they cannot see, not realizing that the path to light is made of shadows.
1. prologue

**a/n:** /sighs/ yes, yet _another _story. please don't kill me, no pitchforks and feathers _will_ be left at the door.

**disclaimer:** to ju, the best friend a girl could have.

**disclaimer:** i don't own Death Note [or _a_ death note, for that matter] and i don't own Dark Knight.

**summary: **In a dying world, the helpless rise up to defeat that which they cannot see, not realizing that the path to light is made of shadows.

* * *

**divide by zero**

**prologue**

_you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain_

* * *

"It's my victory, Near."

Light began to laugh as he stepped over seven dead bodies on his way to the warehouse door. The child had never suspected that Mikami was using a fake Death Note.

All his obstacles removed in one stroke.

Light's eyes flashed as he pushed the dial four times, waiting for the compartment that slid out. Taking out a pen, he wrote _'Mikami Teru'_ in neat slashes, closing the compartment with a click. Almost at the door, he smiled as he heard Mikami's gurgles, stepping out in time to claim his Death Note.

He had two Death Notes, a girlfriend who would die – or at least shorten her lifespan yet again – for him and a world beckoning for its God.

Ryuk flew to his side as he began to walk away from the abandoned warehouse, taking the first step towards the realization of utopia.

* * *

Light finished the last letter he would ever write, the black ink of the pen such a sharp contrast against the white of the paper torn from the Death Note.

They would find him a successor, the Academy was already set into place, and Light _wanted_ – wanted to believe with all his heart that he would leave the world a better place. But Light could never lie to himself.

The Death Note corrupted those who killed with it – it was never meant for human use. Light had brought Death in this world, and found that he could not take it out again.

Now, in the last moments of his death, Light found himself thinking, yet again, of the piercing eyes that haunted him, the black obsidian that broke his resolve – the best, and only, friend he'd ever had.

_You were right, L._

Light finished penning the letter, signing his name in a neat flourish at the bottom. He exhaled slowly before printing his name underneath, starting the countdown to the death of the last person he'd kill.

_You were always right._

* * *

**a/n:** this is an au, from the moment of takada's death. kira has won, and his world is come to realization – even if it isn't the world he wants anymore. this story starts two hundred years after light's death – with a new kira, and a new fight for justice.


	2. chapter one

**a/n:** this story is hopefully going to be planned and carefully thought out – though i say 'hopefully' cause i've never been a planning person. still, enjoy the ride.

**dedication:** to plot bunnies. i may say i hate you, but no writer can live without your species.

**disclaimer:** i don't own Death Note.

* * *

**chapter one**

_one domino is all that's required to start a chain reaction_

* * *

Gray eyes scanned lines of text, searching for the code that would unravel the mystery. Streams of nonsense letters and numbers flew across the screen as practiced fingers entered in new programs and attempted to breach the uncountable firewalls the guilty hid behind.

In this day and age, computers stored everything, and security was at a premium – causing hackers like Liza Aldrich to be employed for sky-high prices. Both the Kira Organization and countless criminals were in need of services like hers, though Liza worshipped Light far too much to be taken in by blood money.

They deserved to die, Light had told the world as such. And if God himself wanted them gone, how could she protest?

Liza tucked a stray strand of her red-streaked black bangs behind an ear before resuming her relentless attack. The Rayer's loyalties were divided and the one thing she hated _more_ than a criminal was someone who could not take a side.

The man had appeared to the Organization months ago, promising them his services in ridding the world of the scum that remained – but even as his words spoke the lies, his actions told the truth.

He planned on betraying them – if only they'd asked him to remove his hood, they'd have a face to go on. You could learn a lot from a face, but with only the barest suspicions and the nickname her colleagues had given him, she knew next to nothing about the mysterious Rayer or his intentions.

A week ago, they'd finally traced a stray email to his guarded account and now were attempting to breach the security, with no result.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she got up, stretching, deciding to put her job on hold as she fixed lunch. Halfway to the door, a frantic beeping filled the air, causing Liza to turn in surprise and watch as the very words she'd been waiting to see unfolded on her screen.

'_Liza, we've caught him. Rayer's finally made a mistake.'_

Liza hurried back, almost lunging across the room in her haste, all thoughts of lunch forgotten. Opening the link her co-worker had sent, Liza greedily devoured the details she'd been given.

Rayer had sent off an email about an hour ago – an email devoid of the usual smokescreens, an email so _easy_ to hack that he was practically taunting them, an email that was also their first clue.

She quickly typed in the strings of numbers in one of her latest programs, frowning when it didn't translate. Rayer wasn't completely stupid after all – it looks like she'd have to translate it by hand, number for number, code for code.

Three hours later, she had a stream of letters forming incomprehensible words. Liza breathed a sigh of relief – a cipher was easier to decode. Typing the letters into a program with a vindictiveness she rarely showed, she waited for it to assemble into the words that would make up Rayer's death sentence.

Watching as word by word appeared on the screen, Liza copied it on the paper, frowning as each word appeared, forming meaningless phrases and sentences.

'_Justice cannot die – it always lurks in the shadows. It might be buried, but it will claw its way to the surface. Justice cannot be found in words, but only actions. Justice does not end when night falls. Justice has always been there – it is only you who fails to see it.'_

Liza tried to enter it in the program again, to find another meaning but it was adamant – Rayer had hidden his true meaning behind the lines of the most famous speech in the world. She'd underestimated him yet again.

Cursing, Liza shoved the paper into the pockets of her shorts as she got up, snatching her cloak off the hook on her way out. She stepped out of the house, pulling the hood to cover her face, barely noticing her husband's absence and the darkening sky, making for the centre of the city and Ryuu's magnificent library.

Liza knew the Principle by heart – Yagami Light had given his opening address to the acclaim of millions, the world's population turning out to see what the young idealist planned for the utopia he'd create. Children learned the more famous charters while members of the Kira Organization were taught to recite passages by heart.

Seething at the corruption of the Declaration of Justice into codes for criminal activities, Liza Aldrich didn't notice the piece of paper slipping out of her pocket and tumbling to the air, finally coming to a rest on the deserted pavement.

* * *

He felt the paper crinkle underneath his shoe before he heard it, a strange noise on a street devoid of people. Taking a half-step back, he caught sight of the paper, his eyebrows arching high above dark brown eyes. Littering was punishable by death and people were generally careful not to break the law.

His curiosity taking the better of him, Ryan Alistair swiped his messy brown hair out of his eyes and picked up the paper, lightly dusting it off to read the hastily scribbled words.

He frowned as he saw incomprehensible symbols decorating the scrap, written in an excruciatingly familiar hand. Ignoring the lines of decoding that he knew were trademarks of those who worked with computers, his eyes shifted to the bottom, where five sentences were scrawled into the paper.

Even if he'd never read the Principle, the general gist of the declaration was about the same. The hypocritical statements about justice amused him to this day. Every Kira was a serial killer, a criminal under his own laws, though he was careful not to say that in his wife's hearing.

The paper seemed like nothing more than the notes of a student. However, Ryan was once trained to fear the worst, and to take nothing at face value. To assume that nothing was as it seemed.

Without meaning to, Ryan could see directions through the sentences – the code rearranged itself in front of his very eyes, his brain used to picking through secrets and ferreting out valuable information to try and keep him alive.

It wasn't that difficult to figure out the location – a location that had to be kept so secret that it was hidden behind three layers of codes. There were few underground libraries in Ryuu, even less were easily accessible at nightfall and only one stood in plain sight.

Exhaling slowly, Ryan tore the paper into small shreds, trying to ignore everything he'd just connected. He wasn't a criminal anymore – he had a decent job, a beautiful wife and a modest home. He couldn't risk bringing up his past and tainting his life.

But there was still a part of Ryan that shook in fury at his deceptions, at the shackles that bound him to this life, at the freedom the world denied him. A part of him that told him to follow those instructions, to take the first step towards a better life.

A part of him that whispered rebellion in his ear and put a gun in his hand.

Sighing, Ryan turned to walk home, striding purposefully away from the shreds of paper, not able to fool himself into thinking that he wouldn't sneak out of the house at dusk and go in search of this meeting.

Only one type of people wrote in code – people who didn't want their motives known. And in this world, the only people who hid were the people who were guilty.

Ryan Alistair was sick of hiding.

* * *

'_I can help you. – the Principle.'_

The woman sighed as she re-read the note for the hundredth time. No matter how long she stared at the simple words, she couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

She had waited for _five_ _years_ – five years spent watching her brother write names and five years waiting on the man who killed her parents. Five years of returning to mansion that felt like a dungeon and a life that felt like hell.

Five years making discreet inquiries and subtle actions. Five years Caileen Grace had waited for someone, somewhere to answer her call. Finally, her wish had been granted.

Tilting her head toward the gray skies, Caileen let the drizzle chill the exposed part of her face, her cloak tightly clasped. It would not do for her to be seen, not _now_, when her plans were finally starting.

Breathing out slowly, Caileen crossed the street, making for the guttered skeleton of the Archives, towering like a vengeful god over Ryuu, showing the world that even the Kira Organization made mistakes.

It had been an ambitious project, Caileen noted as she stepped over the blackened pavement, instigated in the golden age, when Yagami Light ruled the world with an iron fist. It was supposed to be a huge database – names, faces, fake names, criminal activity, suspicious behavior, _everything._

Needless to say, it was also the KO's biggest failure.

Years before she was born, the KO torched the entire building, razing the pride and joy of Ryuu to the ground – the flames melted glass, licked up wood and burned carpet, leaving only the metal frame behind. Caileen had seen videos of the day when smoke spiraled to the sky and hung over the capital of the world like a bird of death, an omen of darkness.

It never failed to send chills down her spine – the utter _destruction_ was horrific. Caileen grimaced as she stepped over a pile of rubble, her mind fabricating bloodstains in every shadow and substituting bones for cement. She remembered hearing the people scream as the walls collapsed around them.

The Archives was a failure and the Kira Organization did not forgive.

Entering what remained of the front lobby, Caileen saw the destitute huddled under threadbare blankets, lighting small fires, building a life out of the abandoned skyscraper. Every few years, the KO came to shift everyone out, but no one had died yet and the homeless continued to rebel in their own small way.

Smiling behind her hood, she made her way to the stairs at the far end of the hall, ignoring the rickety steps towards the top and choosing the steps that descended into the gloom. Her unknown contact had chosen a great meeting place – obvious to the point of stupidity, a perfect double bluff.

Making her way down in the darkness, Caileen ignored the prickly sensation on the back of her neck and continued down to the depths, the bottommost levels of the Archives, where rumors told of information hidden in vaults, guarded by rats and protected by spiders.

Caileen could feel eyes on her back, an ominous presence in the darkness, her silent companion – she was willing to bet it wasn't a spider.

* * *

The man smiled as he heard the sharp _clack_ of heels against cement, trying to destroy the ground with every step. It would seem that he'd offended his guest before she'd even arrived.

Waiting until she was practically in front of him, he detached from the shadows and into her path. The sharp noise faltered as the cloaked figure drew a step back, surprised.

Her clasp had opened, just for a second, but a second was all Scott Sommers needed. An imprint of red silk, glittering nine-inch heels and a ruby at her throat – it would seem he'd offended her indeed, if the mud caked on her shoes and the rotting odor emitted by her cloak was any indication.

Crossing the swamp had been a test and this unknown woman had passed.

"Are you the person who sent me this note?" the woman asked, extending a crumpled piece of paper. Scott took it from her manicured hand, noting soft skin unused to labor.

His eyes narrowed when he read the offer of help – it was definitely Kieran's handwriting, though he didn't know what the enigmatic thief was thinking half the time. He promised to help Scott and sent him a rich brat instead of the weapons and men Scott wanted.

"We'd talk easier inside, my lady," Scott gave her a patronizing smile, nonchalantly tucking the note in his pocket before opening the doors to one of the most dangerous places in the world and gesturing for her to enter.

He closed the doors behind her, watching in satisfaction as the locks clicked on a lead-lined door with a steel-reinforced frame. These levels were meant for secrecy and that suited him fine.

"No," Scott said calmly, watching the woman stare at the shelves upon shelves of files and books and reports. The Kira Organization had burned the Archives down but due to a fortunate water main explosion, the lowest levels were untouched by the fire. If anyone from the KO found out about this, Scott had no doubt that they'd kill half the city to keep its secret.

"No what?" the woman asked absent-mindedly, drifting through the aisles.

"No, I'm not the one who sent you the note." That certainly got her attention.

"What do you mean?" she asked, clutching the clasp at her throat, her eyes penetrating the shadows of her hood to latch onto Scott. He was conscious of the fact that he'd removed his own cloak as a sign of courtesy as her piercing eyes swept past his blue eyes and red hair, judging his threadbare clothes and carefree manner.

"The letter was sent by – well, I wouldn't call him a friend," Scott smiled darkly, thinking of the man who single-handedly ruled Ryuu's underworld, "He shares in our opinions, my lady, and wishes to join forces."

"Our opinions?" He could practically _hear_ her disdain. "Care to clarify?"

"Conspiracy, treason, arson and assassination are heavy charges," Scott smiled, "I like my heart beating, thank you very much."

"Who are you and why did you call me here?" The woman did not seem to care that he didn't answer her previous question.

"I called you here because the Archives is the last place anyone would expect to see a lady of your status," Scott explained, looking pointedly at the folds of her cloak, which he was sure was made of silk, "As for me – you can call me Google. And you, my lady?"

"Google?" she said skeptically, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"As this is our first encounter and you're yet to show me your face, telling you my birth name would be foolish," Scott countered, "Google – you wouldn't have heard of it. Two hundred years ago, before the Purge, it was the go-to site for all information. Ironically, the Archives were modeled after it, though it didn't succeed _nearly_ as well. Your name, my lady."

She was silent for a second before replying, "You may call me Key. What is this place?"

"Can't you guess?" Scott held his hands in the air, encompassing the room as if presenting it to her, "This is the place of which rumors whisper about, the hidden vaults of information guarded by rats –" Scott could've sworn he heard a lock click, "– and spiders."

"Can information really be all that valuable?"

"If you know where to look," Scott withdrew a folded letter from his pocket with a flourish, "And how to use it."

He heard her gasp as she scanned the contents and smiled inwardly – Key was as good as his.

As for the little rat sneaking about the place, well, it looked like Scott would have to find an exterminator.

* * *

She had stepped through the front door and was in the process straightening up to remove her heavy book bag when she saw it. A tiny piece of paper with hastily scrawled words, positioned in the small space between two books, across the hall at exactly her eye level.

An inch taller, or an inch shorter, and she'd have missed it.

'_I've succeeded, Lexus.'_

Frowning, she let her bag drop to the ground, "Mom, did we get a visitor?"

"Alex!" her mom rushed out of the kitchen, wiping dust-covered hands on her apron and drawing the black-haired teen into a warm hug, "You're home!"

Alex Rainier returned her mother's hug half-heartedly, her violet eyes fixed on the paper, waiting for her mother's answer.

"Not a visitor, per say, but the dean of the university came to visit," her mother drew back and Alex could see the stress lines on her once-beautiful face, "He said that he could persuade the board of directors to let you skip another year, if you wanted – your grades are unusually high for someone of your age."

Alex returned her mother's pinched smile, "It's okay – tell Mr. Riker that I'm fine where I am." She could hear her mother's unspoken plea – _'try to blend in, don't stand out, don't give yourself away'_ – but knew it was worthless. Her teachers demanded more of her, the dean's smile grew at her astonishing progress and all the while, the Academy loomed behind her like a guillotine. "I'm going out."

"Going out?" her mother looked bewildered, "You just came home!" Alex felt almost guilty for leaving her mother like this, but the paper beckoned to her, and Sommers couldn't possibly make her day worse.

"It's okay, I'll be back for dinner." Giving her mother a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, she turned around and walked out the way she came, heading for the steel exoskeleton that stretched to the skies.

Her paranoid mind found eyes in every shadow, stalkers in every crowd, her death sentence slashed in every line of the city. Hurrying past the evening rush, Alex was almost at the Archives' doorstep before she remembered herself.

Bending down and pretending to tie a shoelace to cover up her sudden stop, Alex adjusted her glasses behind her hood and scanned the roads behind the safety of her cloak.

The Archives were at the outskirts of downtown, closer to the slums, and the crowd that was present near the center was absent, the streets deserted. A few cars passed along the road, heading for the night shift at the factories ringing Ryuu, or coming back to their apartments in the center of the city. However, what Alex found most unusual was the bright red Porsche sitting idly on the road, directly opposite the Archives.

And from her personal experience, if it was unusual, it was suspicious – and suspicion brought danger like moths to a flame.

Racking her brains for any information Sommers had given her on both the KO and the underworld alike, Alex quickly remembered him telling her about a car thief as ruthless as he was self-serving, bold enough to flaunt the evidence of his thievery in broad daylight, under the very nose of the KO.

A red Porsche, with windows tinted so dark Alex was surprised it wasn't already black, fit the description perfectly.

Finishing the knot on the black dress shoes that were part of her mandatory Ryuu Public Schooling uniform, Alex stood up, making sure her cloak was concealing her before walking on.

A few blocks away and out of the driver's eyesight, Alex cut to the right, squeezing through a narrow alleyway to emerge into the slums. A tomcat slinked down the filthy streets, creeping past an overflowing dumpster to catch its dinner – rats were quite abundant here, if its well-fed appearance was any indication.

Alex walked down the road, keeping to the sides and ignoring the eyes and ears that followed her everywhere. The KO was busy developing rural areas and fixing crime rates in other parts of the world, oblivious to the rampant law-breaking that was occurring in their own city.

Alex considered it quite ironic that the safest place for a criminal was in the capital of Kira's empire.

Walking down another street with only a flickering light as company, Alex's fingers tightened on the small knife she carried as her security. Counting off the doors on her left side, Alex's hand never relaxed, her eyes darting across the moon-lit backstreet. When she reached the seventh door, she walked up to it and knocked three times.

A soft voice asked for the password and she replied, giving the codeword Sommers had given her ages ago, when he first contacted her. The door opened and Alex stepped inside, instantly comforted by the smell of baking bread and cinnamon as a smiling woman led her into the back room.

Alex could hear her two kids playing in the living room and inwardly seethed at the injustice of it all as the back room door was closed and locked behind her. Making her way to the middle of the room, Alex felt along the hem of the carpet for the slightest irregularity. When she found the button, she pressed it, watching as a small pinprick of light appeared.

She walked towards the light and saw the cleverly disguised hinge, pulling on it to swing open a small panel, large enough for a slim teenage girl, no bigger. Cursing the day she got too tall for the trapdoor, she fit herself inside carefully, sliding the panel shut behind her.

She had to crawl in the cramped space for a few more feet before the tunnel widened, creating one of the many secret passages dug to the Archives in the years gone past by the criminals who feared their deaths.

Thinking back on the kind woman who never asked for payment of any kind, who risked her life to keep their secret, who would surely die once the KO turned their sights back to Ryuu, Alex felt sick. Her two kids, already fatherless, would lose a mother for no greater a crime than knowledge.

Was that all the Kira Organization did? Made orphans out of children and widows out of wives? Did they exist solely to break up families and ruin lives?

Alex had used to think that the KO was just, back when she herself was a child, before the faceless men had knocked on her door. But now she knew that there were two sides to every story, a scandal behind every regime, and secrets hidden in every empire.

She reached the end of the passage and stretched, reaching the wood panel above her and tapping gently. Sommers heard her almost instantly, and the wood panel was removed, letting the dim light illuminate her bleak surroundings. She raised a hand and he pulled her up easily, his blue eyes brighter than usual as he watched her stand up.

"What've you succeeded in?" Alex cut right to the chase, dusting off her black cloak.

"No hello for your oldest friend?" he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"My mother's expecting me for dinner and I don't want to give her undue cause to worry," Alex said curtly, seating herself at a nearby table. If her suspicions about the note were correct, she didn't want to be within stabbing range of Sommers when he delivered his news – Alex had a fierce temper with a short fuse.

"Fair enough," Sommers grinned, the smile almost cracking his face in his excitement, "I succeeded, Lexus! I finally managed to find another who supports my cause!"

"Right," Alex said, letting the right dose of skepticism blanket her words, "Another car thief. Or perhaps this one's graduated to stealing jewelry."

He narrowed her eyes at her sarcasm and Alex could see anger break his fanatical enthusiasm. "Why are you acting like this?"

"You cannot win alongside criminals, Sommers," Alex responded coldly.

"You cannot win at all, and you're a stupid fool for even _thinking_ of attempting it," Scott mimicked her voice, "Did I get it all?"

Alex's fingers nearly bore into the table with her frustration, "Revenge isn't going to accomplish anything, Sommers."

"Revenge?" Sommers smiled and for a truly terrifying second, Alex thought that he'd dissolve into hysterics, "I'm not burning down the Academy for the dead, Lexus – I'm doing it to protect the living.

"I thought you, of all people, would be able to understand."

Alex felt a pang of guilt as she looked into his cold face, realizing that she'd hurt him deeper than she'd meant to, with her disbelief and the mockery of his only goal.

"Even if you don't, Lexus, it's too late," he said, the fanatical air coming back as his eyes lit up. No matter how many times he denied, Alex knew that it was still a thirst for vengeance that pitted Sommers against the most powerful organization in the world. "Not even Kira himself could stop the turn of events – we're going to change history."

* * *

The man exhaled slowly, watching the deserted streets with half-closed dark eyes. This particular job may have been boring – surveillance almost always was – but he kept a sharp vigilance, nonetheless.

Rumpling his dirty blonde hair, the man stifled a yawn before resuming his monotonous duty. It was a good thing it was nearing nightfall, he didn't think he'd be able to survive another hour without shooting someone if he didn't see some action.

Luckily for all those in Kieran Blaze's vicinity, a hooded figure appeared on the street at the exact moment that his finger met the trigger.

Abandoning his gun in favor of what was panning out, Kieran moved closer to the window, watching as the woman paused on the threshold of the Archives, waiting for a moment before walking inside.

Kieran looked up to the sky, watching as the last traces of orange disappeared in the oncoming darkness before smiling – all was proceeding to plan. He had caught sight of her heels and the shine of her cloak even from across the road – it looked like he had a rich sympathizer.

Turning as another sudden movement caught his eye, he saw another cloaked figure appear, intent on tailing the former. Frowning, he was about to get out of the car before he thought it over. If by chance the spy _did _manage to make it all the way to the meeting, Kieran would be in no danger.

Sure, the loss of Google, or 'Connor' as Kieran knew him, would be a huge setback, but if the revenge-obsessed fool actually thought that Kieran would continue his work, then he was already too stupid to stay alive.

Kieran Blaze worked only for himself.

He had only one thing riding on this scheme – the acquisition of a weapon that would change the world's conception of violence and murder. The burning of the Academy, the overthrow of the KO; they were all just smokescreens behind which he operated. If it succeeded, good for him. If not, he already had backups in place.

He had long since learned that the best way to hide a secret was to place it in open sight – there was a way of telling the truth that made it sound like the biggest lie.

He was about to leave and check up on Google in the morning – apparently some rich kid had bought a Ferrari – when he caught sight of yet another figure.

He watched in slight disbelief as the person crossed the road and, instead of walking through what remained of the front door, walked to the side. Kieran uttered a muted sound of surprise as he watched the man start climbing _up_ the building, using the steel frame to haul himself up, his tightened muscles visible even at this distance.

The Ferrari could wait – it would seem that this night wasn't turning out so boring after all.

Kieran watched in baited excitement as the woman left the building, walking straight for the center of downtown. Her shadow followed soon after, pausing at a crossroad and walking in the opposite direction. It was nearly nine by the time the man started rappelling down the building and Kieran focused on him, ignoring the schoolgirl who paused in front of the Archives to tie a shoelace.

By the time the man finished scaling back down, the girl was gone and Kieran sat in his car, still in shock. He had promised Google that he would help, and sent a rich and hopefully obnoxious woman to relieve him of that debt. He never dreamed that the woman would bring along a tail, and that a man so obviously criminal would follow.

Maybe Google's cause wasn't so worthless, after all, Kieran smiled as he started the car, maybe he _did_ have a chance of winning – if he didn't die first.

* * *

Deep in the opulent quarters of a decadent mansion, a man wrote down names with a black pen, condemning hundreds with a splash of ink and the paper of Death.

The Shinigami stood by him, watching and waiting – always waiting.

* * *

**a/n:** so, how is it? criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
